Only Skin Deep

by Cathleen Galitz

  Her little kitchen seemed even cozier with him in it. The hum of the refrigerator in the background went unnoticed. Still damp from the shower they had shared, Travis’s hair was a shade darker when wet. Lauren noticed that a farmer’s tan bisected muscles defined by hard work and that his arms bore the scars of his labor. In all her fantasies about this man, no one had included such a mundane yet poignant scene as what they shared over the smell of chicory and bacon.

  “I don’t suppose you could take the rest of the day off to spend with me,” she asked in a small, hopeful voice.

  The fork poised halfway to Travis’s sensual mouth stopped. Watching him fumble for words—for any excuse to make a quick getaway—made Lauren painfully aware of her mistake. She shouldn’t have pressed for anything that smacked of a continued relationship—and certainly for nothing that would hint of their romance in public. A wave of indignation swept over her.

  Travis swallowed hard as if the last bite of his food was stuck in his throat.

  “I’ve got an awful lot to do today,” he said at last.

  Lauren shrugged her shoulders with an indifference she did not feel. It hadn’t been her intention to push him away. She hadn’t thought he would be so frightened by the prospect of spending time with her outside the bedroom. She held up a hand to stop him in the middle of listing off the day’s obligations.

  “You don’t owe me any explanations.”

  He really didn’t. It wasn’t like they had any kind of understanding beyond their undeniable physical attraction for one another. She knew the score.

  Why then, Lauren wondered, did she have such an irresistible urge to pour the last of the syrup over his head?

  Seeming suddenly as awkward as a handful of thumbs, Travis let his fork clatter against his plate. He pushed his empty plate away and put his hands against the edge of the table.

  “Here, let me help you clear the table before I go,” he offered.

  “No thanks.”

  Lauren began gathering up the rest of the dirty dishes. She’d be damned if she let him see how badly she’d been hurt by his reaction to such a harmless request. It wasn’t as if she’d proposed to him or anything nearly so horrifying.

  “When I don’t have so much going on, I’ll take the day off and we can go do something fun,” Travis offered lamely.

  Lauren remained aloof. Had the offer not been born out of guilt and a desire to pacify her, she might have been moved to give him more than a tight little smile and a noncommittal, “Maybe.”

  Travis ground a heel into the braided rug beneath his feet as if he were settling himself into the starting blocks of a long-distance race.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Lauren took perverse pleasure in the fact that Travis looked so very put out with her single word responses to the questions he posed.

  “Look,” he said with an air of exasperation. “I never made you any promises. If you’ll recall, I was the one who thought this might be a bad idea in the first place. Just because we spent the night together doesn’t automatically equate to a long-term commitment.”

  The man’s arrogance was as infuriating as his morning-after breakups were legendary. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much it hurt to be tossed aside in such a cavalier manner, Lauren summoned a soft, calm tone that only those who knew her very well might recognize as a sign of mounting fury.

  “It certainly doesn’t,” she replied. “And since you’re being so brutally honest, I’d like to take the opportunity to set the record straight myself.”

  Ignoring the defensive posture her warning evoked from him, Lauren continued evenly. “Last night was wonderful. I’ll cherish the memory forever. But I hope you’re not expecting some kind of formal thank-you from me. Just because you slept with me once doesn’t equate to an open invitation to spend the night whenever you feel like it, either.”

  She was reminded of a fish studying a bare hook as Travis’s lower jaw swung open. Not inclined to bait that hook for him, she stood her ground with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances.

  “You’ve made it perfectly clear that you aren’t looking for a commitment. I’ve been just as up front about the fact that I am. You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. I’m a big girl, and I knew what I was getting into. One night certainly doesn’t a lifetime make, so why don’t we just part as friends and leave it at that?”

  Travis wouldn’t have been surprised had Lauren stuck out her hand and asked him to shake on it. He couldn’t remember ever being so politely kicked to the gutter before. This conversation gave him a whole new empathy for those poor women who had harangued him on his answering machine after he broke it off with them. For a man who’d been so eager to hit the front door running just a moment ago, he was suddenly reluctant to put one foot in front of the other and make a graceful exit.

  “Friends it is then,” he mumbled, aware that he was being neither sincere nor enthusiastic as a little voice in his head pressed to know why after such mind-boggling sex they were parting at all.

  Because you have such a busy day ahead of you, remember, idiot? Because that love ’em and leave ’em attitude of yours doesn’t apply to a woman like this one who deserves more than you’re willing to give. Because you’re afraid of getting hurt and don’t ever want to go through another messy divorce.

  Travis met Lauren’s gaze over the proud tilt of her chin and accepted the tight smile she gave him before turning her back to him. He walked into the bedroom to finish dressing before leaving. He doubted she even heard the door close behind him over the sound of dishes rattling and water running in the sink.

  Ambling back to his own house, he wondered why he was so unhappy about getting exactly what he’d asked for. Last night’s no-strings-attached sex had been fantastic, but he wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. He definitely didn’t want to get married. He liked the freedom the single life gave him.

  But he didn’t want Lauren seeing anyone else….

  The thought of her returning to The Alibi without him made him grow hot and prickly all over.

  In short, he was the proverbial dog in the manger. Finding the analogy unflattering, Travis grabbed a pair of worn leather gloves and set to working Lauren out of his system the only way he could think of that didn’t involve a bottle of whiskey. Experience had taught him that hard physical labor was an amazing panacea.

  Just put her out of your mind, he repeated to himself over and over again.

  That particular mantra was easier said than done. Hoisting bales of hay into the back of his pickup a short while later, Travis was assailed by unbidden visions of Lauren half-naked. Of Lauren completely naked. Of Lauren struggling to open a cellophane condom wrapper with her teeth. Of Lauren struggling to take all of him.

  Lauren innocent.

  Lauren glorious in her discovery of how to thoroughly please a man—and herself.

  A mixture of startling contrasts, the woman played with Travis’s mind long past the point where his muscles and a seemingly insurmountable list of chores gave out. For dinner he substituted a stiff drink for the steak that he couldn’t get past the lump in his throat. Settling himself in front of the television set for a night of marathon ESPN, he gazed across the short distance separating their homes and caught a glimpse of Lauren’s silhouette against a pair of lacy curtains as she prepared for bed.

  His mouth went dry. Not a voyeur by nature, Travis could no more turn aside from that mesmerizing sight than he’d been able to force his thoughts away from Lauren all day long. She pulled her shirt over her head to expose the lacy froth of a bra supporting a pair of breasts that he now knew fit his large hands perfectly. Putting her hands to the back of her neck, she stretched and leisurely arched her back in the way that cats do to make themselves comfortable before a nap.

  Reaching behind herself to undo the clasp, she presented a profile that caused all the blood in Travis�
�s body to pool in his loins at once. Lauren proceeded to divest herself of her bra and shorts and matching panties before picking up a bottle of scented lotion from her bed stand and slathering it all over herself. Travis was familiar with that alluring honeysuckle fragrance since he had rubbed it all over her skin less than twenty-four hours ago.

  The moan he heard was his own.

  Disappearing from the window frame, Lauren shut the light off, oblivious to what she was doing to him. Travis ached with longing. He scolded himself for being so weak. Determined not to let testosterone do his thinking for him, he faced his empty bed with grim determination.

  And spent the rest of the night fighting demons of his own damned making.

  Eight

  “Any harm in a friend offering to lend a helping hand?”

  The familiar husky voice behind Lauren almost knocked her off the stool on which she was so precariously perched. Clearly, Travis’s deliberate choice of words was a reference to the way she’d left things between them yesterday. Wavering between wanting to tell him to go to hell and gratitude for his unexpected help, she struggled to maintain her footing.

  Literally and figuratively.

  Lauren’s muscles ached, and her heart followed suit.

  “I’d appreciate it,” she admitted, letting the screwdriver she’d been holding in her mouth fall to the ground.

  Lauren didn’t know that Travis had been watching her struggle to put up the wooden swing for the past fifteen minutes before appearing oh so nonchalantly on her porch. Only aware of how clumsy and scruffy she must look, she wished she’d put on something sexier than a pair of old cutoffs and a T-shirt before tackling what had, at the outset, appeared to be a fairly simple job.

  “Here, let me help you down,” Travis offered, putting his hands on either side of her hips in an effort to steady her.

  It had the opposite effect. Swaying, Lauren reached for a pair of shoulders as sturdy as twin boulders only to see herself reflected in his smoldering eyes. She railed against the image of the fainting heroine in dated love stories.

  Don’t you dare swoon!

  After a night spent tossing and turning, she thought he looked far too rested. Travis carried her the short distance to the porch railing where he proceeded to let her down slowly. So slowly in fact that she couldn’t help but notice every bulging muscle as she slid down the hard planes of his front. Lauren resisted the urge to rub up against him the way instinct begged her to.

  “You look good,” he said, setting her upon the porch railing.

  Goose bumps appeared on her arms.

  “It’s a look I like to call chic grunge.”

  In the heat of the midday sun, Lauren shivered violently. So absorbed was she in her reaction to Travis’s close proximity that it took her a moment to realize that her butt was squarely on the porch railing and there was no longer any need to cling to him for support. And she was embarrassed to discover that her legs were open wide to accommodate his body’s placement.

  Would he accept nothing less than her complete humiliation?

  Breathing in shallow gasps, she let her hands slip to his well-defined pectoral muscles. And pushed him away. Hard. Travis stepped back with a surprised look upon his face, giving her the opportunity to clamp her legs shut. The fact that she was throbbing with desire wasn’t something she wanted him to know. Striving for an aloofness that she did not feel, Lauren attempted to strike a pose somewhere between Mae West and a buddy.

  “Thanks.”

  She hopped off the railing only to find herself trapped between Travis and a piece of knotty pine. Leaning in, he placed one hand on the post and dropped the other to the small of her back. He breathed in the scent of her signature perfume and sighed in exaggeration.

  “And you smell good, too.”

  Waves of heat supplanted the shivers that had beleaguered Lauren a moment ago.

  Hot and cold.

  Just like Travis himself.

  A scorching smack of resentment had her spouting the same lame excuse he’d used yesterday to avoid spending time with her.

  “I’d invite you in for dinner after you finish hanging my swing, but I’m sure you’ve got lots of work to do, and I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

  “It just so happens I have some free time on my hands today. And I’m famished,” Travis assured her with a flash of white teeth that reminded Lauren of childhood images of the big bad wolf.

  The gleam in his eyes left no doubt what he was hungry for.

  A convenient snack, not an entire meal…

  “Sorry. Unfortunately, I happen to have plans later today.”

  Something stronger than mere curiosity flashed across the cloudy skies of Travis’s eyes.

  “Like what?” he asked.

  Lauren thought about telling him that she had a date just to see his reaction. Not the kind of woman who was into playing mind games however, she decided to keep her tone friendly and her words matter-of-fact. She figured the last thing Travis would want to do was to accompany her to a family function—one in which her relatives would immediately leap to all kinds of assumptions about the two of them if they showed up together. And ask all sorts of embarrassing questions that she’d just as soon avoid.

  “Like something that doesn’t involve you, but I’d be glad to fix you a sandwich for your trouble before I take off.”

  Letting go of the post, Travis put both hands around her back and bent her slightly over the railing.

  “I don’t remember mentioning food when I said I was famished,” he clarified for her benefit.

  His lips found the sweet hollow of her neck. Clean-shaven, he nuzzled her. A delicious shiver ran through Lauren, and she felt herself falling over backward under the weight of his charm. With deliberate expertise, Travis trailed kisses up the curve of her neck. When he at last reached her earlobe, he took a delicate nibble.

  “Yum, yum.”

  Lauren hated herself for the whimper that escaped her lips. It took every ounce of self-control she had left to turn aside when he lowered his mouth to hers. His lips grazed her cheek.

  “Stop it!”

  She was tempted to slap the bewildered expression off his face. That every cell in her body was crying out for a repeat of the spectacular performance of the other night was in direct conflict with what her mind told her that she should do in the interest of her own self-respect.

  What she was feeling was the stuff of obsession.

  What he apparently felt was of lust alone.

  Neither was a suitable foundation for a loving and lasting relationship—something Lauren had been searching for in vain since her father’s death. Rather than trying to go around Travis, she stood her ground with dignity as a myriad of emotions played across his face: desire, frustration and regret.

  “I’m not looking to be your appetizer,” Lauren finally said.

  Travis felt like telling her to hang her own damned swing if that’s the way she felt about it. But he couldn’t.

  Wouldn’t.

  He didn’t want to put himself through the exquisite agony of watching her stretch out those long legs under that short pair of cutoffs and expose all her luscious curves to his ogling again. If previous bursts of her outrageous honesty hadn’t already convinced him of Lauren’s lack of guile, he might think she’d set out to deliberately torment him. But he wasn’t even sure if she was aware of the effect she had on men in general.

  But Travis knew.

  Just this week he’d watched a string of deliverymen linger over a proffered glass of lemonade and fall all over themselves in an attempt to get her to notice them. He personally knew a dozen other men who gladly would line up on that porch for the opportunity to make themselves useful to such a beautiful woman looking for an exclusive relationship with any one of them. That Travis wasn’t one of them was no reason for him to act as less than a gentleman. Throwing a temper tantrum just because she had made other plans wasn’t likely to impress Lauren one little bit.


  He took a step backward and removed his hands from her person.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  His tone was contrite. Under the circumstances, he supposed the fact that she didn’t want anything further to do with him romantically was a credit to her character. He would have expected no less from his own sister had some commitment-shy man made her a similar offer.

  “You didn’t exactly offend me. It’s just that—“

  He cut Lauren off with the palm of his outstretched hand. “Give me a minute to get my drill, and I’ll make short order of this project.”

  Travis couldn’t make out what she mumbled to his receding back, but by the time he returned with power tool in hand, she was tucked safely away in the cabin. As promised, it didn’t take him any longer to hang her porch glider than it did for her to get ready for her presumed date. When she reappeared on the porch with a plate of food, Lauren was dressed to kill. She had on a little black dress that epitomized the word sexy. While not particularly daring in the cut of its hem or neckline, the crepe material clung suggestively to every curve of a body Travis had come to know intimately.

  He despised the thought of other men drooling over her without him around to protect her.

  “Don’t you need a jacket?” he asked,

  Lauren checked the sky for clouds. Finding none in sight, she shook her head. “I should be fine.”

  All signs of previous reasonableness on Travis’s part disappeared.

  “Not if you’re thinking about going back to The Alibi,” he told her in no uncertain terms.

  “I’m not—at least not this evening.”

  With that, Lauren offered him a plate of food, but no further clues to her destination. Seeing the newly hung swing securely fastened, she gave Travis a smile that made him want to remodel the entire house.

  “You have no idea how much I appreciate your help.”

  Travis felt himself melting like the cheese on the ham sandwich she handed him. It was piled high with thick slabs of meat and slathered with a delicious concoction of mayonnaise and horseradish. Fresh carrots and celery balanced out a mountain of homemade potato salad.